


Whatever Remains

by ladyvivien



Category: Elementary (TV), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Crossover, F/M, Gen, The 'M' stands for Moriarty, sort of, spies and serial killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 10:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyvivien/pseuds/ladyvivien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>M has always had someone else take care of her dirty work. Minor Skyfall spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever Remains

It’s work to start out with. Whilst her colleagues like to bluster and shout, to rough up enemy agents with their fists or shoot them in places that will hurt like a bitch but won’t kill them, M has always preferred a more refined approach. So in her early days, she starts to experiment. To find out what will cause the maximum pain for the maximum length of time. But the Office doesn’t take kindly to failed experiments, and she’s close to being stripped of her 00 status when she hits upon the perfect plan. True, there are only so many terrorists or suspected terrorists or people in the wrong place at the wrong time for her to test out her methods. But there’s a whole world out there, full of people no one will miss provided you’re clever enough.

And M is very, very clever. 

For one thing, she never acquires the targets herself. There are always agents one bad mission away from going rogue, and she’s been doing this job too long to underestimate her sexual appeal. As far as they’re concerned, they’re helping her eliminate people that MI6 doesn’t have enough proof to target. In turn, she looks the other way when they earn a little extra on the side. Oh yes, M has always had someone else take care of her dirty work. 

It helps that her name is never listed on flight records or hotel bookings, that in the eyes of the world she doesn’t exist. From time to time, she sails a little too close to the wind. The odd body slips through the net, questions are asked, and sometimes they’re the right ones. She uses it as a recruitment test of sorts. Every time an ambitious DI or grieving family member strikes a little too close to home, up pops that nice woman from the Secret Intelligence Service, offering them a job. She gets a talented agent, they get distracted. It’s the perfect plan. 

Until Sherlock Holmes. 

He barely even looks at her when he turns her offer down, asking her if his father put her up to this. She lets him believe he did, and slinks off to lick her wounds and consider her next step. It would be easy to get rid of him, an itinerant recreational drug user - one bad batch of coke and Scotland Yard would be off her scent. But he’s too good for that, too good for her to let him go without a fight. 

She kills Irene for the same reason she had Vesper killed. She doesn’t like anything distracting her boys. And Sherlock is one of hers, he just doesn’t know it yet. All she needs to do is wait patiently for him to come into the fold. When he has nothing left, he’ll turn to her. They always do. Orphans make the best recruits, and she’s never let a happy family stand in her way yet. 

Tiago could have ruined her. Think on your sins, he’d said. But she’d never been scared he’d reveal her secrets. Her boys are so loyal, just like Sherlock is to his pretty companion. She’s disappointed in him - he knew that Irene’s death was a message, and yet here he is not two years later living with someone. He’s as bad as Bond, who stubbornly refuses to learn his lesson no matter how many of his playthings she’s forced to get rid of. 

Tiago backfired in the end, of course. She couldn’t have foreseen that, and the damage has been cleared up rather nicely. Retired and without the official protection of the Government, it would have been so hard to keep her hobby under wraps. But a dead woman can go where she pleases, and so she heads for New York the day of her funeral. Moran has the advantage of being both an ex-Marine and an ex-lover, and he’s more than happy to play a few games in exchange for cash in hand, a box at the Emirates stadium and a few days grunting and sweating beneath the sheets. She wonders if he realises he’s fucking a corpse. 

It feels good to be back in the field. All that business with Bond and Mallory didn’t allow for many extra-curricular activities and she’s itching for a little fun. Moran is a good boy and doesn’t say a word once he’s captured. It’s a risk she runs, but she chooses only the brave, loyal and easily disposable to assist her. In their line of work, it takes so little - a stray bullet here, an exchange of enemy agents there. Provided, of course, that they actually die. She sips her tea and gazes out of the hotel window across Central Park, and remembers that she’s not the only one who makes a hobby of resurrection. She’s in the market for a new assistant, and she needs someone strong, someone loyal, someone who won’t flinch at a little blood. She picks up her phone and sends a text from a number even Q won’t be able to trace. 

Halfway across the world an ugly ceramic bulldog is dashed against a wall, and a USB stick is pulled from the shards. The game is afoot.

**Author's Note:**

> When Moriarty was referred to as M in Elementary, there was only one place my brain was going to go...
> 
> 'The Office' is MI6 slang for...well, MI6. The Emirates stadium is where Arsenal play. And that ugly china bulldog is what M left Bond in her will.


End file.
